The Lion Stone
by thehoodedman
Summary: After being kindnapped then stranded several thousand miles from home, John Starlight recounts the tale of how a potion capable of plunging the world into darkness fell into his hands.
1. Prologue

Prologue

The majority of this story takes place during what would be Harry Potter's fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Any chapters typed in _italics _are events which happened eight years before Harry's fourth year.

Certain elements of the story may confuse you at first, don't worry, all will be explained as the tale progresses.


	2. Chapter One

****

Disclaimer and Other Stuff

Sam and everything associated with the Dog-Eared Barmaid belongs to SamanthaHolden.  
  
GileSan and everything associated with the Knight of the San belongs to GileSan.  
  
John Starlight, S.M.B.'s, Christopher Draconian, Frito, Main Plot of this Story, oh never mind. Most of the rest of the stuff belongs to me.  
  
So, without Further ado...  
  
-The Lion Stone-  
  
Chapter One  
  
The S.M.B.'s European Headquarters stood upon a large rock way out to sea off the coast of Ireland, a great mass of turrets, towers, and arches. It was originally constructed in 1436 when a highly regarded 'Seer' produced a prophecy telling of a highly educated warlock who would creep into the world of the Dark Arts and be lost to it. He would try to suppress his evilness upon the innocent White Magic Users, and turn the world into a place of sadness and despair, in which he would rule all, teaching only what he deemed suitable in his New World.  
  
So, Volmert's (the name of the Dark Lord in the prophecy) Institution had been constructed, in hopes that Volmert would spare Ireland when he saw what its people had built him.  
  
Volmert's Institution had decayed over the years, many of its courtyards filled to the brim with dreary vines, and its walls crumbling into rubble. The Dark Lord had come but he had also fallen; though, Volmert's Institution had not gone unnoticed. Voldemorte, as the Dark Lord had been officially called, had given it to his trusted allies, the S.M.B.'s (Science and Magical Breakthroughs in Wizardry), in hopes of them establishing a permanent base near his homeland, where he could keep a closer eye on them. However, shortly after, the Dark Lord was finally and fully defeated. So the castle once again was deserted, as the S.M.B.'s moved back to there original establishment in Colorado.  
  
Yet now, the old castle was once again bustling with activity. For a reason of setting up a temporary base of operation had arose. The S.M.B.'s had finally created a potion that could wipe out entire continents, devastating millions, plunging the world into darkness; the reason that Voltemort had allied with them in the first place. However, the potion was stolen shortly after its creation, and it was believed to now be in the hands of a man by the name of John Starlight, who had taken up residence in Scotland...  
  
GileSan went flying across the room, hitting the bar leaving a large crack on it from the impact. He slumped down onto the floor, splashing into his own blood. Bill Man leapt over to the knight from the Realm of the San, and began punching him in the stomach with enough force to knock over a car. There was no way someone could be that strong…  
  
Bill reared back like a wild beast and came down upon GileS again, serving him several forceful blows with his fists. Samantha Holden sat upon the stairs, trying to block out the unpleasant sounds coming from the bar where she worked. There was a loud scream from GileS, that sounded as though he was in pure agony. Sam's dog-like ears twitched nervously, and she could not bear it any longer. She had to look.  
  
Her boyfriend was lying on the ground, blood pouring from his chest, where Bill was digging his sword deep into GileS rib cage. GileS gasped, his eyes rolling in their sockets. Sam gasped as well, and she dove herself to where GileS had thrown his dagger earlier. She clutched the blade in her hand and ran towards Bill. She threw herself on top of the ferocious man, and brought the blade swinging through the air.  
  
THUD.  
  
The dagger sunk several inches into Bill's back. He gasped, but then turned around, his face in what looked like a look of triumph. He reached behind his back, and Sam heard an unpleasant noise-like water boiling and some one squishing, a wet, sloppy substance- and when Bill pulled his hand back out to the front, the knife was clutched in his hand. He grinned, and flung it as hard as he could at Sam. She just had time for a small squeak before the knife pinned her to the wall, her leg now bleeding furiously.   
  
Bill turned back to face GileS, but a bright white light illuminated the room, and when it had cleared, Bill was no where to be seen, just some scorch marks where he had been standing. GileS tried to get up, but the pain was too much, and he let himself fall back to the floor.  
  
John Starlight bustled over to GileS, putting his robe's hood down so he could see better. "Un sportsman like," he commented to GileS, as he crouched down next to him. "Yet, affective." John began examining The Ranger's wounds, pushing his usually less than affectionate attitude to the back of his mind. He ran his finger over a deep cut, then called upstairs to where he had token his house elf, Frito, earlier. "FRITO! Bag me!" Frito tossed down the bag of his magical dust, and John caught it in both hands. He began to tend to GileS wounds, as he talked. "I noticed something about that Bill character. His blood was kind of green, but I don't know if that means he's a zombie, or a…" John continued like this for some time, as he sprinkled dust on GileS, and wrapped bandages firmly around the sores. "…but the blood could have been black, and I just didn't see properly. But it looks so green." If GileS hadn't felt like a train had just hit him, he would have probably broke John's jaw, just to shut him up. "All finished," he declared, getting up to go tend to Sam. However, GileS' foot shot out, and tripped him. John fell to the floor. GileS wanted to heal Sam. John shrugged.  
  
"Have it your way," he sighed, and headed upstairs to comfort his house elf. He found Frito cowering under a table in the hallway outside the room they were staying in.  
  
"Hi, Frito," John ventured, gently. The houself whimpered, and John handed him back his bag of magic powder. "The fights over…" Frito shook slightly. Apparently, he had heard the whole fight from his hiding place. "Do you want to go lie down?" John asked him.  
  
Just as John reached for the door, however, he heard movement inside the room. John retracted his hand slightly. Not wanting to scare the young house elf, and wanting to keep the potion safe, in case the people in the room where the S.M.B.'s, John tried something desperate.   
  
"Frito? Why don't you go downstairs? I used some of you powder on GileS, and I'm not sure what the long term effects will be…" The elf nodded, and John pulled out the long slender bottle witch held the potion. "Just hold this for a while, okay?" Frito nodded again, and took the potion lightly form John's hands. He put it gently in his short's pocket and hurried off down the stairs.  
  
John turned his attention back to the room. He grasped the doorknob firmly and turned it. Immediately hands shot out of the room and pulled him in. The door slammed shut behind him.   
  
John found himself being thrown out the window, and John heard a familiar voice.  
  
"Be careful, you fools!" Alan Night called. "You'll break the bottle!" John hung limply in the air, someone holding his hood firmly. "What are you waiting for!?" The angry voice of Alan Night hissed. "Pull him up here already!" John was swung up onto the roof, and he saw something that startled him. There was Alan Night standing on the roof, and so where the usual henchman (the one's that GileS hadn't killed, anyway), but he was flanked by a forth man, one that resembled-  
  
"Me?!" John sputtered. Indeed, the man looked just like him, except his skin was a little darker.  
  
"Remember," John heard Alan Night say to the look-a-like. "You are John Starlight. Frito is your house elf. You like Sam. You hate GileSan." The procedure looked like it was a form of brainwash, for a second later, the other John replied, with a faint accent.  
  
"I am John Starlight," he said, stumbling slightly on the words. "Frito is my house elf. I like Sam. I hate GileSan."   
  
Alan Night nodded, and grasped the man's shoulder tightly. "You are serving the universe well. The Dark Lord shall rise again, and you can be proud to know that you sacrifice will play a great part in his revival." The John beamed, before he was directed into the open window.   
  
"Don't forget," one of the two other men told the John as he climbed into the window. "Point the wand at the fire, than you." The John stared back at him, looking puzzled as though he had not understood a single word that had came out of the henchman's mouth.  
  
"You idiot," Alan repeated. "He can't understand you. It took us ages just to teach him the little bit he can recite." He rolled his eyes, and said something in a different and odd language that John did not understand. But, the other John apparently did, for he ducked out of view and snapped the window shut.  
  
Alan turned his focus onto John, himself, for the first time since his arrival onto the roof. "Well, well, well," he grinned, a yellow grin. "Why are we looking so thin? Are John's troubles finally catching up to him?" He pointed to an empty alleyway. "Take him over there," he barked, before disapparating with a small pop.   
  
John wasn't sure how he got to the S.M.B.'s headquarters or when. He just woke up in a large, dimly lit chamber; the only light coming from dark candles letting of pale blue fire; and with somebody's face leering close to him. It took John a few seconds to realize what must have happened, and as the person withdrew a few feet from John's head, his features swam into focus.   
  
It was Christopher Draconian. 


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
  
Frito made his way gingerly around GileSan. "Are you feeling-g-g-g anything different-t-t-t?" He asked GileS, his question accompanied by his usual stutter.  
  
"Why would I feel any different?" GileS growled.  
  
"It's j-j-just…" Frito paused, wondering how The Ranger would take it. "My…my magic-c-c can some t-t-times take away short time effects of pain-n, but it does so by pushing-g-g the pain to the back of the mind-d-d where you won't think about it-t-t-t."  
  
"I feel fine," GileS told him, fighting off a slight spasm of pain.   
  
"Well…" Frito sighed, walking towards the stairs. "If you insist-t-t-t that you're okay. Then-n I'll leave y-y-you alone." He hopped up the stairs to go to sleep. Frito entered the room, and was confronted by the John look-a-like.   
  
"M-m-master John?" Frito asked. Then John did something that took Frito by great surprise. He pointed his wand at the fireplace, and a thin trail of dust spiraled out of it. It twirled towards John and encircled him, and as it did, his body faded into soot like the dust around him.  
  
Within seconds, a small pile of dust lay where John had been. It took Frito a moment to work out what he had just seen. Then the intenseness of it came wafting over him, and he threw up. He wiped his lip with a shaking hand, and looked for something to put John in. He settled for a small bag, and scooped John inside. He ran down the stairs, being careful not to drop the dust. As he got to the bottom floor, he let out a scream and threw up violently again. Sam and GileS looked up from what had so far promised to be quite a romantic evening compared to the day's hectic events. Sam look startled, but GileS didn't seem too surprised. John somehow always was in trouble when him and Sam where on the verge of a breakthrough in their love life.  
  
"Of all the stupid and idiotic things to do…" Sam was still saying to no one in particular, a couple of hours later. "Why would John turn himself into dust?" For once, Frito did not even have a smart-aleck answer, let alone a reasonable one. So, he let out a small whimper.  
  
"Are you sure you know how to turn him back into a human?" Sam asked GileS.  
  
"Of course I do," he grunted, as Sam watched him set up an odd tripod contraption. Frito stared on anxiously. Then, GileS started a fire in the fireplace and tossed the soot of John into it.   
  
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Frito screamed. "He'll fly out-t-t-t!" Sam couldn't help it. The idea of John hurtling up a chimney, as a great ball of soot, sent her into hysterics of giggles.   
  
When she regained control of herself, she said, "Are you sure this will work, Ranger?"  
  
GileS replied by saying, "He should be John again by morning. The spell takes twelve hours to be at its full effect."  
  
"Tw-tw-tw-tw-tw-! A dozen hours!" Frito sputtered.  
  
"Good evening, Mr. Starlight," Christopher grinned. "I do hope you are feeling well." John fidgeted in his chair, trying to free himself of his bindings.  
  
"Shut up, you spoiled brat," John spat at Chris.  
  
"Spoiled?!" Chris gasped. "I was not spoiled." He let out a long, fake sigh. "My father was never there for me." He wiped away a false tear.  
  
"Only because you made sure he wasn't," John glared.  
  
"My, my, my, aren't we brave? Especially for a man who doesn't even have his wand." Chris twiddled a long piece of wood in his fingers, laughing maliciously. "Speaking of bravery, I must applaud you on a job well done. Not even the truest of seers could have foreseen your defeat of Bill. He was genetically altered to be as strong as two of the strongest men alive."  
  
John was struck by a sudden inspiration. "I didn't defeat Bill, GileSan did."  
  
"Ah, of course, the San" Chris said. "I would be stupid to assume otherwise, wouldn't I?"  
  
"He killed him with one blow," John continued, hoping to scare him.  
  
"Luck," Chris breathed through gritted teeth, waving his hand impatiently. However, John was satisfied to see a spasm of fear flitter over the young man's face.   
  
"And I bet," John hurried on, hoping he wasn't misreading the look on the boy's face. "I bet, that he's on his way right now with Sam and Frito to save me."  
  
"Ah," Chris, all fear evaporated from his face and now smiling, began to circle the chair like a vulture. "That does always seem the way, doesn't it? John Starlight. The damsel in distress. Hey, you killed your old best friend for the same cause, why should now be any different?"  
  
A hot feeling formed in John's throat. He didn't know what to say to this, so he just sat in silence.   
  
"Speechless?" Chris gasped, with mock surprise. And with that, he left the room, leaving John wondering why Chris had not even asked him about the potion…  
  
Sam, GileS, and Frito sat near the fire, waiting as the seconds ticked down towards twelve hours. Sam looked anxious, Frito looked nervous, and GileSan's expression was hard to read.   
  
"Five…four…three…" GileS called off the time remaining on his strange watch. "Two-" There was the sudden, strong smell of burning flesh, and everyone took an awkward step back. The soot came swirling like snow out of the fireplace, and reorganized themselves on the carpet. Before to long, John's face was recognizable from the mass of black. Next second, color began dripping its way down the outline, and John was once again human. He looked about the same as he had before he had turned himself into ash, except his clothes where singed and- as Frito would have pointed out to Sam, if she hadn't lost control and hit him earlier- his skin was darker.  
  
Sam and GileS left the room, most likely to engage themselves in something or other involving love, which left Frito alone with John. Frito noticed something peculiar about the way he was acting. John was picking up everyday items like a fork and examining them close to his eyes, with almost disbelieving curiosity. He pricked himself with the fork and went off to find something else to examine.   
Frito set off after him, cautiously. He was just prying a napkin from other John's hands, when Sam reentered the room. She looked nervous and was ringing the bottom of her shirt in her hands.   
  
"Uh…John?" She said, slowly, as though she was choosing her words extremely carefully. She looked over the fact that John was now looking at a bird outside the window as though it were a god. "I, uh…I…" She continued. "I… Oh, John! I hit Frito." She sighed as though a heavy weight had just been lifted off her chest.  
  
"I am John," John recited. "Frito is my house elf." Sam stared at him. GileS walked in behind Sam.   
  
"Uh…GileS, Sam asked, ("I don't like GileSan. I like Sam," John said)"What's the matter with him? Did your magic somehow, you know…?"   
  
"If it is magic that is making him like this," GileS answered, as John began poking his the table with a straw,   
  
"Then it was his." And Sam and GileS left the room, leaving John and Frito alone again. John peered outside, he saw the roofs of nearby stores, and it was as if someone hit a switch in his head. For within seconds he was out on the Three Broomsticks roof, searching every inch of it with his hands. Frito, with much difficulty, climbed after him. He patted John gingerly on the shoulder.  
  
John suddenly stopped looking, his hand resting on the roof. He withdrew his hand, Frito had a split second to see a crude marking of the letters, S, M, and B intertwined together, on a tile, before a blinding blue light shot up John's arm. His arm was pulled back onto the roof, as though he was a magnet. And then Frito understood. The tile, somehow, was able to hurl you to across great distances in a matter of seconds. He launched himself at John, and had barely rested his fingers on the tile, before-  
  
ZAP!  
  
John and Frito disappeared.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three  
  
Frito felt his insides churning as he hurtled though arcs of light with John at his side. The elf closed his eyes, wishing it would stop. Minutes went by, and still Frito felt only air underneath him. Wherever the shingle was sending them to, it had to be a decent way from Scotland…  
  
The light began to spiral at an alarming rate, before it leveled out, and Frito felt his feet touch solid ground. John landed on his face, mud splattering all over his features. Frito looked around and shivered.  
  
A heavy blanket of rain was pouring in great sheets from the dark sky, pounding into the iron, grey, ocean, which surrounded them on all sides. They stood upon a rock before a large castle, which towered over them, casting a sinister shadow though the sky bore no sign of the sun. It had to be at least twice the size of Hogwarts, and at least twice as intimidating.   
  
John opened one of the huge doors and entered the castle; Frito sped after him, as the door creaked shut. If the castle looked gloomy from the outside, it was nothing compared to the inside. The walls where bare, and the only light came from small candles letting off a blue flame, each one set a few feet from each other. Doors led off to large chambers in every direction, but Frito was yet to hear one person's voice.  
  
Frito continued to walk after John, who didn't seem to know what he was doing, for quite some time. Then, quite suddenly, there was a voice. Two to be exact.  
  
"Hey there! Mr. Draconian!" Said one voice. "How are you doing today? It's quite fine, if I do say so myself!" A loud wave of thunder rattled the windows.  
  
"Uh, yes, lovely day, Alan," came the reply from the voice of Christopher Draconian. "I wanted to ask you a question."  
  
"Go right ahead, Frito," Alan said, smacking his lips. Chris overlooked the strange mistake.  
  
"I have a very important mission for you," he told Alan. "It's so important I wouldn't trust any one else with it."  
Alan swelled with pride, as Chris continued.  
  
"All you have to do is take a boat out into the ocean and wait for your next orders." As he spoke, three men walked up behind him, two of which seized him under the armpits.   
  
"Oh, hello!" Alan said, in surprise, as the men led him off.  
  
"Nothing to be scared off, Mr. Night," Chris called after him. "There just escorting you outside!"  
  
"What's there to be scared of? It's only Kevin…"  
  
Chris turned to the man who remained. "Poor chap," he sighed. "Never has been completely right since that memory charm. I mean, sometimes he's the same, but other's he's… well. Yesterday, he showed up in my room and thought he was outside on a swing set… Get the point?"   
  
The other man nodded, gloomily. "You-uh. Wanted me for something, Mr. Draconian?"   
  
"Yes. I did. Can you check up on how Starlight is doing? If he's acting any different than tell the dementors to leave." And with that, Chris walked away, and the other man walked off in the other direction.  
  
Starlight? Frito was confused. How could John be right next to him if he was also being tortured in one of the chambers? John went off in the direction of Chris, and though, Frito wanted to find out more about the John down the hall, he ran after him. Within a few moments, Chris was in their view.  
  
"Mr. Dracoan!" John called. Chris turned around.   
  
Chris stared at him. "What in Hades name are you doing here? You supposed to be chained up! Who let you out?!"  
  
"Mr. Dracoan!" John said more slowly. "I am John. I like Sam. I hate GileSan. Rember?"  
  
Then it dawned on Chris. "Oh! You're the other John!" His expression darkened. "You idiot!"  
  
John took a step back, as Chris lost his temper.  
  
"Didn't you think once that if you weren't there, that people would grow suspicious?!" He roared.  
  
John whimpered. "I-no-understood…" He muttered. "What-is-Mr. Dracoan-say?"  
  
Chris clutched his hair. "Why couldn't they have found a John from an English speaking dimension!" He waved his hand and John fell to the floor, his face changing into that of a rotting corpse. Frito took a step back, in horror, and it was then that Chris noticed him.   
  
"Frito?"  
  
"Uh, M, m, master Chr-Chris…" Frito stuttered. He felt horrible saying it. But then, to Frito's great surprise, Chris picked him up, and actually hugged him.   
  
"It is so good to see you again, my dear house elf," Chris sighed, putting Frito down. "Come, come. Let us rejoice. Have something to eat. You don't look like you've had good meal in days."  
  
Chris led Frito down a long hallway until they reached a set of double doors.  
  
Chris leaned into one of them, and it opened to reveal a large chamber where several people where hard at work, cooking over ovens and cauldrons. Chris snapped his fingers and all the chef's stopped their duties at once.  
  
He snapped them again and pointed to his right. The cooks filed out of the kitchen and opened the other door. To Frito's amazement, the right door did not lead back to the kitchen, but instead to a vast dining hall.  
  
Chris followed up the rear of the line, and when all the cooks had trumped back out, leaving various dishes of delicious and exotic food, he motioned for Frito to sit down.  
  
Frito obeyed and pulled himself up onto one of the many high-backed chairs, which lined the sides of the table. Chris sat down next to him. There were several minutes of tense silence before-  
  
"Well Frito," Chris asked the elf. "Aren't you going to eat?"  
  
Frito immediately began to wolf down large portions of everything, while Chris waited patiently.  
  
"So, how has life been since you left me?" He suddenly said. Frito chocked on a mouthful of bread. He swallowed, with much difficulty, before answering.  
  
"It's been ok-k-kay," Frito said slowly through mouthfuls of chicken.  
  
Chris stared at the little house elf, waiting for Frito to continue. He didn't. Chris cleared his throat loudly. "So, you and John, uh, are doing great?" The elf suddenly began to choke back tears.  
  
"Gr-r-reat?!" He sobbed, as his shock disappeared, and his memory came flowing back. "How c-can it-t be doing fine?!" Frito stood up on his chair, suddenly furious. "You just killed him! Killed him just like you killed Master Kevin!" He was not stuttering and his eyes where void of emotion. "I used to think there was a bit of good in every body, but you sir! You have proven me wrong! You've probably killed more people this month than the Dark Lord did in three! I despise you, you foul-"  
  
"Frito-"  
  
"You evil…"  
  
"Frito-"  
  
"Son of a-  
  
"FRITO! John's not dead!" Chris shouted. The elf stopped screaming immediately.  
  
"He-he-he-he's not?" He peeped quietly.  
  
"Of course he isn't," Chris told him, laying his hand of Frito's shoulder. "But he is here; would you like to see him?" An odd twisted smile swept across the young man's face.  
  
"Y-yes," Frito stuttered. He hopped down off his chair, and Chris slid out of his; and then there was a tremendous whooshing sound. Frito could not see the top of the table, but he had a strange feeling that all the food had just vanished. 


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four  
  
The halls of the S.M.B.'s fortress where dark and gloomy, and a thick layer of dust laid over the floor and the few objects that had been set up along the way. Perhaps, it was because of the sad hallways that Frito was traveling through with Chris, that the young elf was surprised when Chris began to talk with the air of one greeting an old and invaluable friend.  
  
"I think I'm going to give up this nonsense," Chris said, sighing deeply. They passed a window and Frito saw that rain was still pounding down outside. "What was I thinking? Why would I want to control the world? Why would I want to kill so many people?"  
  
Frito stared at the his old master.  
  
"Wh-what are you saying?"  
  
"What I'm saying, my dear house elf..." Chris replied, dramatically. "...is that I'm going to give up on this horrible villain scenario. Turn good."  
  
Frito couldn't control himself, and he began to skip along the hallway, happily.  
  
"You m-mean it?" Frito laughed with joy. "You really m-m-mean it?"  
  
Chris just nodded silently. Then, they were there.  
  
"Well, here he is," Chris said, pointing towards a door they had just came to. "John's right through there." The house elf grinned happily.  
  
"W-wait until I t-tell Master John about you b-b-being a good p-person!" Frito giggled excitedly. He reached for the door knob, but Chris pulled his hand back, clenching it in his fist.  
  
"I'd like to tell him that, myself," Chris said, still gripping the elf's hand. Frito stood there for a moment, looking at Chris, before he vigorously nodded.  
  
"Okay, Master Chris, okay." Chris dropped the elf's hand, and smiled. Frito reached for the knob again, but as he grabbed it, the door swung open, and Frito felt his blood run cold. Frito felt as though ice water was being poured into him through every opening his body. And that's when he saw them. Dementors; three to be exact; all of them leaving the room that he was about to enter. Their frayed cloaks whipped out behind them, suspended on an invisible wind, and behind them followed the man Frito had seen earlier. He was clutching his head, and screaming, looking as though he was fighting an immense urge to just lie down on the spot and die.   
  
Then the dementors where gone, along with the man, and Christopher Draconian. Frito shook his head, wearily. He twitched his long ears, listening intently. The rain was softer now; Frito must have lost consciousness for a bit. But there was no time to think about that now. He had to go see John.  
  
The room with John in was very dark, maybe even darker than the hallway he had just been in, and also very large. Frito peered around for his friend, and just when he was about to give up and find Chris, to ask him if he was sure this was the right room; there was a voice.  
  
"Frito...Is that you?"  
  
Frito listened again, but he heard nothing. Then, there is was again.  
  
"Frito?"  
  
"John? M-master John?"  
  
"I'm over here! Oh, Frito! Are Sam and Giles here? Oh never mind, just come over here!" John called back from the shadows. Frito followed the voice through the dark chamber until he bumped into a chair. He glared through the darkness, and was able to make out the form of John. After a few more moments of staring, the young elf was able to see the features of John, and his eyes had adjusted quite well to the gloom.  
  
"We've got to get out of here, Frito," John said, his voice was weak. "Before Chris comes back. He's only a teenager, and it's only been about a year since I escaped from being held hostage by them, but he's more powerful. Much more powerful than I ever remembered. We've got to get out of here."  
  
Frito stared at John. He must be confused. Chris wasn't bad. He wondered whether he should tell John about Chris being good now...  
  
"M-master John!" Frito declared, trying to calm his friend down. "Chris said-"  
  
"Don't listen to a thing that evil creature says to you," John cut him off. "Just untie the bindings for me." Frito obeyed, and quickly tried his best to loosen the ropes cutting into John's skin. He pulled them open, and they fell to the floor.   
  
John got up from the chair, searching the sides of the room, and rubbing his raw wrists gingerly. He began to pat the sides of the wall, and putting his face up close to it.  
  
"Uh..." Frito asked, nervously. "What-t are you doing, Master J-j-john?"  
  
John continued to just search the chamber, until he let out a somewhat loud," Aha!"  
  
"What is it-t?" Frito asked, startled.  
  
"A door," John replied, triumphantly, opening it. "Yes! Frito come over here." The elf darted over to John. "Have a look at this. See that hole in the floor?"  
  
Frito clutched his nose hard. There was a terrible smell coming from the hole. "Yes, I see it..."  
  
"Well, if my hypothesis is correct, and by this smell, I think I am, then this hole is none other than an authentic sixteenth century toilet." John sighed happily. "It is also our ticket out of here."  
  
Frito didn't know if he liked where John was going with this plan of his.  
  
"This little invention is really just a long shaft that leads right to the ocean, so all we have too do is..."  
  
"Oh n-n-o..." Frito moaned, pinching his nose harder.   
  
"P-please don't say it, M-master John..."  
  
"All we have to do, Frito," John continued. "Is slide down this chute, and boom! We're free!"   
  
With John's: boom, the smell seemed to intensify itself.   
  
"I'll go down first!"  
  
He backed up out of the room, then ran back in. And then with a courageous, "Juranimoe!", John dived feet first down the chute!  
  
And got stuck. "Oh... Blasts!" He wriggled around uncomfortably. "Frito! I'm stuck."  
  
Frito would have laughed if the smell wasn't making him gag.   
  
John screwed his face up, and turned red. The he started grunting, and squirming.  
  
"Wh-what are you doing, M-master John?" Frito asked, his voice oddly changed for his nose was still plugged.  
  
"Well, I've been tied up for a day now, haven't I?" John asked, innocently. "A man's got to relieve himself eventually. And you know... I am in an authentic sixteenth century toilet, after all..."  
  
He paused for a moment, then-  
  
"Ohhh! Master John!" Frito shouted, disgusted.  
  
"I'm just kidding!" John reassured him. "I'm trying to turn into my hamster form." He grunted again, and his eyes turned red. Then his skin turned white, and whiskers sprouted from his cheeks. His skin puffed out, and grew fluffy, then with a whoosh, John was three inches long, white, red eyed, and sharp teethed. The Albino Hamster John let out a high pitched squeal as he hurtled down the chute, the slimy walls flying past him, and then with a small splash, John was out of the fortress and in the storm tossed sea.


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five  
  
There was another splash as Frito landed next to John. He sunk below the foaming water for a moment, before raising back up on a crest. John squeaked in his hamster form as the waves swept him about, pulling him under, and throwing him into the air. John tried to concentrate on becoming a human again, but he couldn't. The stormy sea was too violent.   
  
Frito gasped for air, shivering violently. He made an attempt to rub the salty water from his eyes, but he soon found that to be a mistake. He had opened his mouth when trying to blink the running water out, and immediately swallowed the freezing water around him. He choked, the salty taste filling his mouth, water flowing down his chin.   
  
Through blurred eyes, the young elf looked around for his friend. John's hamster form was barley distinguishable from the foamy waves he was lost in. Frito reached out for the hamster, but the water swept John away. The rain pounded down against the water, causing the small hamster to be flung around in the sea every time a rain drop collided with the ocean near him.   
  
The albino hamster sneezed water from his burning nose, and tried again to concentrate on turning human.   
  
"M-master John!" Frito shouted over the immense noise of the rushing sea and falling rain.   
  
John couldn't really reply, but let out an encouraging squeak to reassure Frito he was safe. Now if only John could convince himself that he was safe. If he didn't manage to turn back soon, he would be lost to the ocean, pulled under and unable to swim back up, or worse…  
  
John screwed up his face, squealing, and then quite suddenly, he had a human leg. John felt himself sink a few inches into the water, the cause being, with out a doubt, the recent addition of the leg. Then, John didn't become a human, but the most ugly hamster in the world.  
  
His fur had disappeared, his skin turning the dark color of his hooded cloak. The whiskers remained, and so did his front claws and one of his hamster legs, but the leg that had already turned back human, re-grew fur. Then the leg shrunk slightly, and the rest of the body grew to about two feet.   
  
John knew he didn't want to look at himself, but he hoped that his distracting form would attract Frito's attention. And his hopes were proven right, as Frito was able to make out the black and white creature rising up and down in the waves. Frito swam his best through the large swells, every now and then being pushed off course by a freak wave.   
  
Finally, he reached John's side and clutched onto him.  
  
"M-m-master John," Frito stuttered, spitting some of the water out of his mouth. "You are pr-probably the ug-ugliest hamster I've ever seen." John just glared back at the elf, still with a mouth incapable of speech.  
  
If John and Frito thought their trouble was almost over, they were wrong. The sea only seemed to get more rough as the night wore on (or was it day?) and the storm didn't show any signs of letting up.  
  
John stared up at a small sign, groggily.   
  
"Welcome…" He read, slowly. "…welcome to Stranraer…" It took a moment for John to realize what he was staring at, but eventually his mind seemed to register the fact that he and Frito had finally arrived in a town. After washing up on a shore, John and Frito had taken to wandering lonely fields until they found signs of civilization. And now they had.  
  
"Fr-frito," John said, battling away the difficulty of communication caused by his extremely dry mouth. "Frito, where here."  
  
"Huh?" Frito croaked, looking about, wakening from a walking half sleep. "H-h-here?"  
  
"Well," John said, pulling the elf away from the sign and down a road. "Were somewhere. I think we may be back in Scotland…"  
  
Frito perked up. "We're in Scotland!" He dashed off into the town, but John grabbed him on the arm and held him back.  
"Frito, you're a house elf," John said, sternly. "If you run out into the middle of a muggle town, you can't help but get noticed."  
  
Frito stopped, and stared at the town hungrily. John patted him on the shoulder, and Frito turned around as John pulled a small bonnet and dress from one of his large inside pockets. John gave Frito a wide grin, and raised his eyebrows.   
  
The door to a small restaurant swung open and in walked John Starlight, followed by a bustling Frito. The elf looked positively miserable in a blue flowered dress and pale wig covered by a white laced bonnet.   
  
The two took a seat at a table by a window, and were soon greeted by a waiter.  
  
John smiled at the waiter and read his and Frito's orders off a flimsy menu. The black suited man nodded, and went off to retrieve their orders. John turned to Frito, and grinned.  
  
"Lucky I still had that costume from when we went to France, huh?" John said. Frito looked around the cramped café nervously.  
  
"Lucky?!" he shrieked. "I don't-t like this cost-costume. I don't like this restaurant. And I especially don't like them."   
  
He pointed behind him, where three old men were grinning toothless grins at their table. "Those three guys haven't t-took their eyes off m-me since we came into this place…"  
  
John laughed. "What are you talking-" John watched Frito blow a kiss back at the men, and one of them made a motion as though he was catching it. "Oh…"  
  
He walked over to the men and waved friendly. He leaned in close and whispered.   
  
"Hi. How are ya. I see you've been eyeing that woman over there."  
  
One of the men shrugged.  
  
"Well let me tell you something. Keep your filthy eyes of my Great Grandma Lay Lays."  
  
The men decided to take that time to use the restroom, and John returned to his table.  
  
"There," John sighed. "Better now, Gran?"  
  
Frito crossed his arms and pouted. John rolled his eyes and spotted an old, yellow piece of paper pinned to the wall across the room. He and Frito drew near it, and found it to be map of Scotland.  
  
"Jeez." John let out a long low whistle . He pointed to a dot on the map labeled, Stranraer, and turned to the elf.   
"This is where we are, Frito." John gestured to the dot on the bottom of the worn map. "We're in Southern Scotland. We want to be up around here, in Northern Scotland." He pointed an area at the top of the map, and Frito's mouth fell open.  
  
"How are we s-supposed t-to get-t there?" Frito shrieked. "C-can you apparate us?"  
  
John grinned, sheepishly. "Uh…can you?"  
  
Frito's mouth dropped even further.  
  
"M-master John?! Are you t-telling me I'm stranded seventy thousand kilometers away from Hogsmeade, in a costume that-t makes me look like freaking George Washington in a night dress, and you can't even apparate us… BACK!" Frito screamed, knocking his wig askew.  
  
The shabby waiter had returned, so John led the still ranting Frito back to their table. At the sight of the food Frito stopped screaming, and a loud growl erupted from his stomach.  
  
The elf made an attempt to gobble up as a much of the meat and vegetables as he could, but John stopped him.  
  
"Sorry, Frito. But we have to save this food for the trip. I'm out of money."  
  
Frito pulled savagely at his bonnet clad wig, as John handed him a small strip of meat. The young elf found himself longing for the meal he had had with Christopher Draconian. Why hadn't he eaten more?  
  
"Can't-t you just conjure some food-d every time we get hungry?" Frito moaned, stuffing his 'meal' into his mouth, as John wrapped the remained of the food up tightly in napkins.  
  
"Chris has my wand," John answered, piling the wrapped food in his pockets. "The most magic I can probably do right now is shatter a few windows." John emptied his wallet to pay for the lunch, then the two went outside.  
  
"YOU"RE COMPLETELY OUT OF MONEY?!" Frito gasped.  
"  
Frito! Stop Panicking!"   
  
"M-master John! We're stranded over fifty thousand k-kilometers from our home without any m-money! What do you s-suggest I do?!"  
  
"I suggest you pace yourself better," John grinned. "You don't want to wear out your legs before we even get out of town!"  
  
Frito turned white as a ghost. "We're walking?!"


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six  
  
John and Frito had decided to travel in woodland for most of the journey, less they be spotted. Though Frito pulled off the old grandma act magnificently, they still felt it was best they stay hidden, out of the way.  
  
It wasn't too bad, actually. They had an okay store of food, their clothes where still slightly damp, which kept them cool, and all in all, the October air was actually quite warm, with only a cool gentle breeze.  
  
"This isn't to bad, actually," John announced to the still grumpy Frito.  
  
The elf hitched up his dress as he stepped over a log, and didn't answer.

"Oh come on, Frito!" John sighed. "Cheer up! We'll be home before you know it!" The elf just furrowed his forehead, and then suddenly let out a shriek. He found himself flying through the air, then suddenly found himself on John's shoulders.  
  
"Now, you're not staying up there the whole trip," John told him, and they continued on their way.  
  
The weather was still fair as they made their way onward to Hogsmeade. It didn't take long for John to become bored. Every where he looked, there was nothing but trees, and shrubs. John thought about waking Frito up, just to have some one to talk to.  
  
John wished he would have bought a watch when he had the chance, for he couldn't see the sun's position from where he stood under the canopy of the trees.

It was while he was staring up at the green ceiling, that he first saw it. As he walked under a small break in the trees, the sky became visible, and looking strikingly odd against the blue and white swirls was a streak of grey. Smoke. John stared close at it, and came to the conclusion it was coming from where he and Frito were heading.  
  
Not good.  
  
John didn't want to risk straying to far from their original path, but he wasn't sure if he was willing to risk walking through a settlement with a house elf attached to his back, even if it was dressed up as a Great Grandma. In the end, John decided to wake up Frito, and to go through the area where the smoke was billowing up from.  
  
Even with the sky blocked from view, John could tell it was nearing night. The sound of crickets chirping could be heard along with the rustling sounds of nocturnal animals awakening from their daily sleep.  
  
Yet, still, the two trudged on. The journey which had started out well, was now turning the exact opposite. The cool breeze that had blown across their faces at first, had turned into a bone-chilling gust that whipped their noses and cheeks by the next morning.  
  
By the following night, the two had still not found any settlement or other source that could have created the smoke. John was about to give in to the possibility that he had imagined the grey patch in the sky, when his foot collided with a something metal.  
  
He looked down to see a small frying pan laying on the soft, dark ground. John peered around and realized he had just came upon a camp. Though it seemed who ever had set it up had been away for some time.  
  
Their where tents set up in an arc around a camp fire, which was now nothing more than a pile of steaming ashes. Steaming…  
  
That meant someone had been here. Not long ago, but just long enough for the fire to have died down. John decided, against his better judgment, to examine the tents contents. Not only would he be able to "borrow" some of their supplies, but he might be able to find out what kind of people lived in this place.  
  
John entered one of the shabby tents, and almost popped his eyes from their sockets when he saw what was inside.  
  
There was a working kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. Not to mention room for several extra beds. John and Frito then continued to check the remaining tents, and found similar set ups there as well.  
  
This meant only one thing to the pair. This was a wizarding settlement.

"Frito," John said, when they had finished looking in all the tents, and were snooping around in someone's fridge for spare food. "Why do you think who ever was here would just move off and leave all their stuff behind?"   
  
John ripped open a packet of sliced turkey and shoved a few pieces into his mouth.  
  
A voice answered, but it lacked the high pitched squeak of Frito's voice. Instead it was rough and deep.  
  
"Maybe, who ever lived here, left all their stuff behind because they were planning on returning soon…"  
  
John turned around and chocked on the turkey, causing some of it to dangle down onto his chin in thin strands.  
  
"Whoof aw youf?" John asked in surprise, spraying the new comer with bits of food.  
  
The man wiped the spit from his face and thinning grey hair. "Who am I?" He repeated John's question, disgusted. "WHO AM I?! I am the owner of this tent, and head of this settlement!"  
  
Though John could tell that the man was well into his fifties, there was an air about him that caused John to involuntarily stand up straight.  
  
The man stared suspiciously at John for several silent moments before finally breaking the quiet.   
  
"Who are you?" He raised one of his eyebrows so high it disappeared underneath his hair.  
  
"Um…" John thought fast. He'd learned long ago that the S.M.B.'s had secret connections and followers everywhere, which meant it wasn't wise to reveal who he was.   
  
He breathed in deeply before saying, in the deepest voice he could muster, "My name is not of the essence."   
  
The man snorted, and turned away slowly. John let out a sigh of relief, but then quite suddenly, the man whipped around sharply, with his wand arm out straight. Within seconds John found himself against one of the tent's sides with a long wand being held a few centimeters from his neck.  
  
"If you pan to live, you will tell me your name," the old man growled.  
  
"Kevin. Kevin Draconian," John answered quickly. He smiled nervously. The man didn't return the gesture.   
  
"Come on. Outside with you."   
  
John just stared at the tip of the long wand.  
  
"NOW!" The man ordered. John moved slowly out the tent, Frito clutching to the back of his robes, and the old man now behind him, prodding his back with the wand.   
  
John stepped out of the tent, and had to immediately squint, as his eyes were forced to meet with the bright light of a burning, ember fire. As John walked more out into the open, he let his eyes gradually adjust to the brightness, and he was surprised by what he saw.  
  
The once empty camp site was now bustling with activity. People were roaming in and out of their tents. Eating, talking, exercising. There were men, women, even a small group of children.   
  
"What is this?" John asked, more to himself than the old man.  
  
"That's none of you damn business, now is it?" The old man replied, coldly.  
  
John just grunted, as the old man continued to push John and Frito through he camp site. A moment later, the old man had forced the two in front of the fire, and turned to the crowd that had gathered to see what the Head of the Settlement was doing.  
  
"Listen, my dear friends and family!" The old man yelled to the crowd which had just doubled when he began to speak. "I have reason to believe…" He pointed to John and Frito menacingly. He let out a low shallow breath before finishing.  
  
"I believe that these two strangers, are spies. Spies for the S.M.B.'s."


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven  
  
"SPIES?!" John roared. With this the crowd exploded with sounds of anger and fright.   
  
"Get them out of here!"  
  
"Who are they?"  
  
"Kill them! Kill Them!"  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"No way!"  
  
"I want a pancake!"  
  
"Ahhhhhhh!"  
  
"But, how?"  
  
"That is a good question, Elizabeth," the old man noted, referring towards a middle twenties aged girl with brown hair that had asked the latest question. "How, indeed?"  
  
It took several tense moments before John realized the old man was talking to him.  
  
"H-how-how wh-what?" He asked, his voice raising a notch with the last word.  
  
"How did you find us?" The old man explained stubbornly.  
  
"It wasn't anything special… Me and my house elf were just wandering through those woods back there and-"   
  
"You and your house elf?" The old man repeated skeptically. He turned back to the eager crowd. "Quite suspicious behavior, is it not? Wandering through muggle territory with a house elf by your side?"  
  
The crowd murmured agreements.  
  
"No, no! You don't understand!" John protested. " I'm just trying to get to Hogsmeade! I'm not a spy! I was being held prisoner in the S.M.B.'s sea fortress-"  
  
John was interrupted again.  
  
"Aha!" The crowd gasped as the old man yelled this. "He knows about the S.M.B.'s! How could HE know about the S.M.B.'s, if he's not ONE of them!?"  
  
John glared at him. "I know about the S.M.B.'s because I'm fighting them. I have been for months now! And before that I was held prisoner by them! And before that my late best friend stole their potion-"  
  
"Aha! He knows about-"  
  
"Would you shut up?!" John screamed. "I don't know how you know about the S.M.B.'s, but I can assure you we're probably on the same side! So let me go! Now!"  
  
John grabbed Frito and tried to break through the crowd, but the old man was much quicker than he looked, and before John knew what was happening, he was on the floor with cords wrapped around his body. Frito was in the same position.   
  
Then John saw the old man lean over him.  
"Say goodnight. Spy…" There was a flash of light-  
  
-and John woke up in a dimly lit tent. It was smaller than the other ones he had been in, but maybe that was just because there were three people inside. Himself, Frito, and someone else was by the sink running water on something. The person turned around and John recognized her as the girl named Elizabeth from earlier.  
  
"Finally. It's about time you woke up." She kneeled next to John and began dabbing at a cut on his forehead with cloth. "George gave you quite a beating after he knocked you out. You've been unconscious for two days now…"   
  
She continued gently rubbing the sore. Even in the dim light and in his current state, John couldn't help noticing that Elizabeth was very pretty.   
  
"So George was that old man's name?" John growled. "As soon as I can stand up, I'm going to beat his head in."   
  
John made very violent strangling gestures with his hands, before wincing. Elizabeth had hit him hard on his cut with the wrung up cloth.   
  
"Don't talk about George like that!" She said. She sounded angry, but she went back to gently cleaning the cut some more. "Sure, he may be a little over bearing. And selfish. Maybe even a little mad or psychotic. But he's good at heart, really." She finished tending to the gash, and got up. "I think…"   
  
John watched her toss the cloth into the sink and head out of the tent. He stood up quickly and raced after her.   
  
"Wait.." He grabbed her arm to stop her. "Where am I?"  
Elizabeth bit her bottom lip, and stared at him silently.  
  
"I can't tell you," she finally answered. "Just in case you are what every one thinks you are. And even if you aren't what everyone thinks you are, I can't tell you because I still wouldn't know what you are. Because you're certainly not one of us, are you? So, because you are not one us, and I don't know what you are, and because you are or maybe you aren't what everyone thinks you are, I can't tell you where you are. Do you see?"  
  
"Ohh…" John sighed, slinking back into the tent. "I guess I understand…"  
  
Frito didn't regain consciousness until a few hours later, and when he did, he was just as eager to find out where they where as John had been.  
  
"So, what-t, if she didn't want-t-t to tell you?' Frito had exclaimed when John had told him what happened. "You should have grabbed her, and held her hostage in here until she gave you all the answers you needed."  
  
John gave him a doubtful look. "Frito, I don't think I could have done that. After all, I think she's quite close to that old guy they call their leader. He probably would have had us killed as soon as he noticed she was gone."  
  
Frito kicked the side of the tent. "It-t was worth a shot-t…"  
  
The next few weeks past by slowly without much event. Elizabeth brought in a small breakfast around noon, and then an even smaller dinner around seven at night every day.  
  
It was only at these times that John and Frito would get any interaction with the outside world. Every time she came in John and Frito would be able to get snippets of information about what was happening in the camp.  
  
George was still holding strong to his belief that the pair were spies, and most of the settlement's residents strongly agreed with him. They even learned from her that a rumor was being spread. One that said, a base of action was going to be taken against the spies within the next week.  
  
And happen it did that following Wednesday.  
  
John had now grown accustomed to being woken at eight in the morning, so his body was taken by surprise when he found himself being roughly shaken awake before the sun had even began to rise.  
  
"John! John! Wake up!" He heard a female voice say.  
John managed to peel his eyes open slightly. "Elizabeth?"   
He murmured. "Wassyoudoin?"  
  
"John! Just hurry and get up and dressed…" She answered, by way of reply.  
  
"But…but…" He let out a long yawn. "…What time is it?"  
  
Her eyes darted towards the flimsy exit of the tent, before she answered. "It's early. Now hurry up." She dashed out of the tent and John heard a roar of voices erupt from outside. John gulped. It didn't sound good.  
  
John quickly scrambled out of bed and pulled one of his only two pairs of clothes on. He looked around and saw Frito was sitting in a corner of the tent, terrified.   
  
"D-did you hear what-t they were yell-yell-yelling?" Frito sputtered. John shook his head, but listened closely to outside the tent. He couldn't tell much from the noise except that the crowd was quieting down.   
  
"What where they saying?" John asked.  
  
Frito gulped, sweating, and whispered.   
  
"Burn…burn…burn…"


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight  
  
John agreed with Frito. 'Burn, burn, burn' didn't sound like something he'd want to hear coming from a group of people that thought he was a danger to them.  
  
He patted Frito on the shoulder. "It's okay Frito. I'm sure it won't be anything to bad." He had tried to sound comforting but his voice had cracked near the end as someone entered their tent. It was a man, much stronger than George, and also much younger. A long scar ran the length of his square jaw and all the way up to his forehead where it met with his long black hair that had been pulled back into a large ponytail.  
  
"Ge' up," he grunted at Frito. "An' ge' out." He nodded to both of them in turn, and pointed at the exit.  
  
"Come on, Frito," John said, putting on a painful smile to portray he wasn't scared. Frito clutched to John's leg as they moved towards the exit. The strong man exited before them, to tremendous cheers, and then John saw an opportunity to escape.   
  
He grabbed Frito and dashed to the back of tent. Luckily the tent had no flooring, and John had little difficulty raising the back of the it. He held up with one hand, and motioned for Frito to crawl under with the other.  
  
Frito obeyed, and made his way under the tent. He stuck his back under and gave the thumbs up sign to show everything was clear. John then preceded to crawl under, but just as soon as he had stuck his head out, a breeze swept over him, going from the legs up.  
  
John grimaced. He had the odd sensation that someone had just entered the tent. His accusation was soon proven right as whoever had entered grabbed him roughly above the knees and began to pull. John let out a groan as he lost his balance and fell to the ground. He rubbed his sore chin, but quickly made an attempt to free himself from his captor. He chanced a glance backwards and saw a bobbing black pony tail and long scar.   
  
"Damn," John muttered. It was the strong man from earlier.  
  
John forced his hands into the earth and pulled with all his might. Unfortunately, the other man was pulling his hardest which equaled about three times John's hardest. Frito jumped onto John's arms and began to pull as well. The result was a searing pain that made John feel as though his body was being slowly split in half. Frito pulled his hardest, but it was no use.  
  
He let go, and John found himself move several inches backwards. Frito hitched up his dress and dug deep into his pocket and produced the potion.  
  
John's eye's widened for a split second as he dreaded Frito was going to open potion and use it on the man. But instead, Frito quickly put the potion back in his pocket, and took out a small tightly bound pouch. The elf pulled lightly at the string, and the bag fell open. Then, he hurriedly scooped up a handful of dust and blew it at the man holding John, concentrating hard.   
  
The sparkling dust scattered over the mans face, and a second later, painful boils had sprouted all over it. The man let out a shout of agonizing pain, and let go of John to clutch his face. John scrambled out of the tent as Frito began to close the bag up.  
  
"Come on, Frito," John told him, grabbing his arm. The half opened bag fell from the elf's hand and hit the ground, sending a cloud of the dust at the tent. The dust collided with the tent, and the whole thing was engulfed in flames. The man ran out at after them, still clutching his face, as the tent was quickly reduced to ashes.   
  
John cringed, looking behind them. The tent was gone and they were more visible than John fancied through the low remaining flames. The crowd stopped cheering to get a better a look at the tent that was on fire, and try to make out the two figures behind it. John began to tiptoe backwards, with Frito at his side.  
  
"Just go slowly, and they won't have any suspicion that we're people trying to escape…" John told the little elf. "Just back…away…"  
  
"THEY'RE ESCAPING! AGH! OWWW! ESCAPING!" Damn. It was the man Frito had caused painful boils to pop up on.  
  
John grabbed Frito by the middle and bolted for the forest surrounding the settlement as the crowd of specters began to work out what the crippled looking man on the ground was screaming.   
  
"THE SPIES!" The man roared, forcing himself to get up on his knees. "THE SPIES ARE ESCAPING!" The crowd gasped, and not even waiting for an order from George rushed past the fiery remains of the tent and onwards to the woods.  
  
John could hear the crowd behind him, their footsteps banging against the dirt ground so hard that his knees where shaking from the vibrations. Frito kept his eyes closed. With every bouncing stride John took, Frito felt like he was going to hurl from the bobbing motions.   
  
"I don't l-l-like this at all," Frito babbled. "I think I'm going t-to hurl, M-m-master John."  
  
"Then go right ahead," John relied. "Hopefully it will blow back towards them."  
  
Several people were pulling their wands out of their pockets and casting spells towards them, blasting off the ground and shrubbery around them. John dived to the ground as bark exploded around him. A pieces grazed past John's face as he fell to the ground, leaving an oozing red cut.  
  
"Ouch!" John yelled, as he whit the ground. He put his free hand to his face to feel the scrape. It was bleeding quite profoundly, but there was no time to worry about that. The throng of angry people were closing in on them. John pulled himself back up, and flung Frito over his shoulder where the house-elf hung limply upside down.  
  
"CAN YOU GO ANY FASTER?!" Frito yelled as his carrier stumbled over a large root.  
  
"Sorry," John snorted, regaining his posture. "But your dress keeps blowing in my face. I can't see where I'm going." He tripped on a tree stump and fell onto the ground again. John quickly hopped up again and continued running, spitting dirt out of his mouth.  
  
"I wish you'd st-st-stop doing that-t," Frito remarked.  
  
"Doing what?" SLAM. John stumbled backwards and fell over.  
  
"That," Frito replied stubbornly, as he untangled himself fro, John and hurriedly went to investigate the formation John had just slammed into. It appeared to be a very wide rocky "stair". It wasn't very tall, but just tall enough for them to be unable to get themselves up without equipment.  
  
"We're doomed," John realized as he looked up at the rock.  
  
"D-d-d-d-d-oomed," Frito agreed. The crowd of angry people was getting closer and closer. John could practically feel their breath. Pebbles around them began bouncing up and down on the hard earth and John could hear the crisping of the leaves under their feet. There was nothing they could do. Nothing at all. Nothing at all except climb the rope that had just fallen over the top of the rock.  
  
John glanced at Frito and nodded, before the both scrambled up the rope. John got to the top of the rock, and he quickly pulled the rope up from behind him. He then grabbed Frito and whipped around to continue running. It wouldn't be long before one of their pursuers figure away up. As John whipped around to continue on his way, he spotted who must've dropped the rope for them to climb up.  
  
And if this was the person who had helped them, he was startled by what he saw.


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Well, not so much as startled but pleasantly surprise.   
  
"Elizabeth?" John exclaimed, embracing her quickly before feeling some embarrassment and quickly let go. "I mean, thanks for…you know…helping us."   
  
"You can thank me later," she urged, grabbing his hand. "There's another way to get up here, and the rest will find it any minute now, so let's get going." She pulled him away from the cliff and further into the forest. John grabbed Frito as they rushed past.   
  
"Why'd you help us?" John asked her, breathing heavily as they darted through the trees. "I mean, I thought you liked George, why would you help us escape?"   
  
She glared at him for a second, before explaining. "I love George like a father, so don't get any ideas that I'm doing this because I hate him or any of the group back there. They're like my family."   
  
"Then, why help us?"   
  
She slowed down to a speed walk. "It's complicated. I guess, it's because I believe you're innocent. I have no reason to think any different. The rest of them, back there. They think you're a spy, but I don't know why they can't believe that you're one of the heroes…"   
  
John slowed down too. "Heroes?" John asked. "What do you mean, heroes?"   
  
Elizabeth sped up again, and John hurried after her. "The heroes that are going to save us all…" she told him, quietly. "You, your house elf and two others…"   
  
John stared at her in amazement. "Why do you think I'd be that hero?" He stopped walking, and just stood there, looking at her.   
  
She turned to him but didn't say anything.   
  
"Lizabeth?" John questioned.   
  
She took a deep breath. "The prophecy, John. Back in the states, there was a prophecy written on a cave wall. It said that a darkness would fall upon the world, unless a man garbed in a hood and flanked by an elf, along with a canine lady and a Knight from another world would rise to stop it… I know, it's pretty far-fetched sounding." She smiled at him. "But you seem to match that description."   
  
"It's not that far-fetched." John said, smiling back at her. "It's actually more accurate than you may believe." His thoughts lingered back to Hogsmeade for a moment, and he felt a sudden pang of sickness. Was it home-sickness? He wasn't sure.   
  
He wondered where Sam and GileS where at that moment, and if they were planning on rescuing him or if they even noticed he was gone.


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten  
  
Christopher Draconian stood silently in the large, dark room that had just eight days before, held one of his organization's most sought after men. That room, was now empty. He suddenly let out a roar of rage, as a red glaze settled over his eyes, and he slammed his arms forcefully into the chair that John had been tied too.   
  
The chair went tumbling off to his side and landed at Jerry Bealer's feet. The man made no sign of weakness as it crashed in front of him, in fact, he barely even acknowledged it was there. Skilled in several forms of combat as well as the magical arts, Jerry had searched for his calling in life for years before he came across S.M.B. After he joining the organization, Jerry had moved quickly up the ranks to his current position as Christopher Draconian's right hand man.   
  
After Chris's former right hand man Alan Night had been "deported" from the S.M.B.'s fortress, Christopher had easily decided who would fill the now vacant spot.  
  
"Sir," Jerry suggested. "If it's any constellation, it's been storming for days now, and I doubt Starlight or his elf could've survived long out there in the water." Jerry cringed slightly as he called Christopher "sir". The idea of working for a fourteen year old had always slightly bothered him, but the more time he had spent witnessing what Chris was capable of, the more confident he had become in taking orders from him.  
  
Chris flung himself around so his face was merely inches from Jerry's, his face vivid with anger. "I don't want him dead!" he roared. "I need the know where the potion is, and how can I do that if nobody is left to tell me it's location!?"  
  
Jerry kept his jaw set, but didn't respond.  
  
Chris waved his hand, frustrated. "Send a few men out in one of the boats and tell them to search for his body, and you go to the mainland and see if you can track him down. If he did survive, and you all better hope he did, then I'm sure he's growing weak by now."  
  
Jerry nodded, feeling his blood pulsing. There was nothing like a good chase.  
  
"How far a walk do you think we are from Hogsmeade?" John groaned, forcing his legs onward.  
  
Elizabeth peered around, squinting. "I say a good week or so, if we stay out of sight in the forest."   
  
Frito sighed, and let himself drop into a pile of leaves, exhausted. It was almost afternoon now, and the three had been walking for a few hours, but on the plus side, they had lost Elizabeth's group.  
  
Elizabeth sat down on her knees next to Frito, and John followed suit by leaning against a tree.   
  
"I guess we'll take a little break then," John decided. He let himself slink down the trunk until he too was sitting. "How's the potion, Frito?"

Frito extracted a small cushion from his pocket in which a pouch lay. He pulled the potion from the pouch and handed it to John. John looked at it closely before passing it back to the elf.  
  
"How did you get that?" Elizabeth asked, curiously.  
  
John raised his eyebrows, considering the thought of telling her. She did save you, John decided, you owe her as much to tell her what she's gotten herself into.  
  
"It's a good thing we have a lot of time on our hands," John smiled. "Because it's a long story…"


End file.
